


Redecorating

by Rose_of_Pollux



Series: Inktober for Writers, 2019 [5]
Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Gen, M/M, Napoleon is a show-off, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-05
Updated: 2019-10-05
Packaged: 2020-12-01 21:56:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20911355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rose_of_Pollux/pseuds/Rose_of_Pollux
Summary: In which Napoleon continues to show off, and Illya knows just how to deal with it.





	Redecorating

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Day 5 of Inktober's prompt: Build.

It had been a long time coming, but, at last, the offices in U.N.C.L.E. HQ were being re-done and redecorated with new furniture and carpeting. Of course, given U.N.C.L.E.’s budget restrictions, it would be up to the agents to assist in the endeavors.

“Crime may not pay, but us good guys aren’t exactly rolling, either,” George grumbled, carrying a new, rolled-up floor rug under his arm as he passed by Illya in the hallway. “We have our own work to do, and we’re expected to play interior decorators on top of that? We’re not even getting paid for it!”

“Perhaps not, but it has its moments,” Illya mused. He indicated the box of draperies he was holding; Baba Yaga, his and Napoleon’s cat, was intently kneading the draperies as she snuggled into the box, purring in absolute contentment.

“Well, I’m glad _someone_ is enjoying all this,” George said. “Where do you want this rug?”

“Just leave it in the office there; Napoleon and I will arrange it,” Illya said, indicating the office he shared with Napoleon.

George headed for the office, but then stopped in the doorway, staring.

“Ah, you noticed?” Illya asked.

“…Kind of hard not to…” George said.

Illya stood beside him, sighing as he saw Napoleon inside the office—in a form-fitting t-shirt, showing off his toned build as he moved boxes and furniture around.

“…Suddenly, I feel very overdressed,” George said.

“He claims it is a disguise for his next assignment,” Illya said, in a voice that clearly said he didn’t believe it.

“As opposed to…?” George asked.

“Wearing that for the sake of merely showing off the end results of his fitness training regimen,” Illya finished. “Kept at bay by those many suits he wears all this time, it has been unleashed.”

“So are you two going to stand there and stare or help me in here?” Napoleon asked, sitting back on the desk. “Because if you’re just going to stand there, I’m taking a break.”

He stretched his arms—once again purely for the sake of showing off.

“Where do you want the rug…?” George asked, still not sure what to make of this side of Napoleon.

“You can leave it rolled up on the floor; Illya and I will sort it out later. Illya, if those are the drapes, I’ll have them now—we can set them up on the windows here.”

“So that there’ll be a lovely framing for anyone looking through the windows at your perfectly toned torso?” Illya teased.

“Well…” Napoleon leaned back further on the desk, propping himself up on his elbow. “Either you’ve got it or you haven’t.”

Illya rolled his eyes skyward and place the box of draperies on the table beside Napoleon.

“Let’s see if your musculature can succeed in removing a determined cat from a pile of draperies,” he challenged.

“Please…” Napoleon scoffed, getting to his feet. “How hard can it…?” He trailed off as, while picking up Baba Yaga from the box, the draperies came away with her, as she refused to let go of them. “My dear, can I have that?”

He cradled the cat in one arm and gave a tug on the drapes with the other, but Baba Yaga’s response was to now sink her teeth into the draperies and let out a meow of protest as he tried.

“…Having trouble?” Illya asked, innocently.

“…Give me a moment; I’ll figure it out.”

Baba Yaga let out another determined meow, increasing her grip on the drapes.

“Napoleon, you of all people know from our experiences that brute strength alone is useless; you must have guile, as well.”

“Right. You know, some fish would probably get her to let go,” Napoleon said.

“Perhaps it would.”

“You could get some fish for me.”

“I _could…_”

There was a pause.

“…But you won’t,” Napoleon realized.

“…I think not,” Illya agreed, with an impish smile. He now took Napoleon’s place on the desk, leaning back and propping his head on his hand.

Illya turned back to George and winked before turning back to Napoleon. George responded with a knowing nod and slipped out, amused that Illya somehow always managed to find a way to bring Napoleon back to down to Earth. Then again, that was what made them such good partners for each other.


End file.
